The Seven Sins of Torchwood
by Jooles34
Summary: Written for a challange; seven fics, one for each of the deadly sins, each from a different characters POV. Some are funny, some sad, some angsty. Will post them here as I go. Rated T for the series. Eighth bonus fic is Suzie and all 7 sins!
1. There's a Chicken Wing Where?

_**AN**__ – This is the first in a series of seven fics written for an LJ challenge. Each one is based around the prompt of one of the seven deadly sins and is from the point of view of a different character._

_Some are funny, some sad, some angsty. This frst one is Ianto and sloth._

Ianto woke slowly. Something didn't feel right. The bed underneath him was hard. Not, just hard, it was solid. He clearly wasn't in his bed or Jack's. He started looking around him, disorientated and still groggy with sleep. He was in one of the cells. Why was he in a cell? Why had he been sleeping in the vaults?

Then it started coming back to him. He had started work as normal on Tuesday morning, then their network had been attacked. While the others had gone home he and Tosh had worked through the night to fix the systems and restore all their information.

On Wednesday morning after they had been up for more than 24 hours, Jack had sent them both home. Two hours later Ianto received a call telling him to come back to the Hub as something had bitten Gwen and they needed information from the archives on how to treat her. Information that only he could find. Apparently.

So after just one hour of sleep he was back in the Hub. After he had found the information they needed (it took him two minutes, a monkey could have found it with his impeccable filing system) they demanded coffee, so he made them coffee. He then figured that as he was awake, and he was here so he may as well stay and get a day's work done. All being well and good the rift would stay quiet after this morning's little adventure and they could all go home at a reasonable time.

But of course that didn't happen did it? Oh, no. That big purple thing with the name that even Jack couldn't get his tongue around had appeared in Splott and scared the locals. It was peaceful enough and just wanted some dinner and to go home, but had inadvertently destroyed a Happy Shopper and upset a few people so there was retconning to be done, cover stories to be written, police to smooth over and reports to write.

Later that evening Ianto had suddenly remembered that he hadn't fed Janet so he had wandered down to the cells to do just that. He had been awake now for about 40 hours with just one hour of sleep, so he had felt justified in having a little sit down in the cell next to Janet's. And that was were he was now.

He looked at his phone. 6.10 Thursday morning. Time to get back to it he supposed. Ianto wandered, still groggy, down to the showers. He should have felt clean and refreshed by the end of the quick, cool shower he took, but he didn't. He felt clean and still tired. He sighed and changed into one of the spare suits he kept in his locker and made his way up to the Hub. The others would be arriving soon.

Entering the main Hub Ianto stopped dead. He was surrounded by carnage. There were pizza boxes strewn everywhere. Not just pizza either; what was that? Potato wedges? Coleslaw? Every available surface was cluttered with empty boxes, coffee mugs, take out coffee cups, soda cans, beer bottles. Oh dear god there was a half eaten chicken wing stuck to Owen's chair.

He walked briskly to his computer terminal and tapped some keys, getting into the log to see when the others had left. Only three hours after he had gone to feed Janet. How had four people made this much mess in three hours? How was that possible?

He'd had enough.

Ianto marched into Jack's office and banged on the hatch to his boss's quarters with his foot.

"Jack, we need to talk."

By the time Jack emerged, tucking in his shirt, Ianto was sat in the chair opposite Jack's desk with everything he needed.

He explained the situation and outlined his demands. He put forward a reasoned and thought-out argument to support them.

Jack refused.

Ianto had anticipated this and putting his carefully constructed argument to one side, made his threat instead.

Jack capitulated immediately.

Soon afterwards Ianto was lying on the battered sofa, his MP3 player in his ears, his eyes closed. The proximity alarms cut through the music and he opened his eyes to see Gwen and Tosh walk in together. They looked at him lying on the sofa in confusion. He smiled and gave them a little finger wave before closing his eyes again.

A short while later the alarm went off again. Once more Ianto opened his eyes and watched Owen walk through. Owen gave him a scornful look.

"What are you doing? Why can't I smell coffee? I can always smell coffee when I come in."

Jack walked out of his office and addressed the team.

"We need to talk."

Ianto closed his eyes again and surreptitiously paused the music. He wanted to hear this.

"Ianto feels that…"

Ianto coughed discreetly, but continued to tap his foot along to non-existent music.

Jack took a deep breath and started again.

"Ianto feels, _and I agree_, that we have been taking him for granted and not appreciating what he does around here. And so he is now on strike until we tidy this place up and have learnt to look after ourselves."

"Strike?" asked Gwen. "What kind of strike?"

"Until he is satisfied that we appreciate what he does, barring an end of the world scenario, Ianto will not be making any coffee, ordering any food, getting anything from the archives, doing any filing, any tidying, or _anything else_."

Ianto didn't need to have his eyes open to know the look the Captain was giving him now and he bit his lip to hide his smirk.

"He can't do that. It's his job to do those things." said Owen

Jack cleared his throat. "As Ianto pointed out, his job description - which I still don't remember writing _or_ signing – says that he is an archivist and assistant, but does not say anything about being a general dog's body."

"Are you going to let him get away with this?" Owen asked.

"Did you not hear the bit about Ianto doing _nothing_ until he's happy?" giggled Tosh.

Ianto beamed to himself, turned his music back on and settled in for a lazy day.

******

Ianto had been lying on the sofa for hours now. He had finished a book that he had started years ago and never been able to get through and he was frankly starting to get bored. He was considering breaking his own strike and heading down to the archives for something to do when Gwen came over to him.

"I'm heading out to get some coffee. Do you want one?" she asked.

He smiled up at her. "Yes please Gwen that would be lovely. I'll have my usual."

Gwen gave him warm smile and turned away. She stopped, turned back.

"Sorry Ianto, remind me again. What is your usual?"

Ianto told her with a sigh. She had just proved his point. He couldn't give in now. Nope. He was here on the sofa to stay. He turned his music back on.

********

Ianto was woken by a kick to his thigh and Jack's voice.

"Oi, sloth, wake up."

Ianto blinked up at him.

"Everyone's gone for the day. What do you think? Does it meet with your approval?"

Ianto stood and stretched, looking around the Hub. All the rubbish was thrown away, there were no unwashed mugs or plates anywhere. The work surfaces were clutter free and if he wasn't mistaken he could actually smell furniture polish in the air.

He gave it two days.

"Yes Jack, I approve."

Jack folded his arms across his chest.

"Does that mean the strike is over?"

"Yes Jack, the strike is over."

Jack reached out a hand and looped his fingers through the front of Ianto's belt.

"Good, because I have something that needs urgent attention."

Ianto laughed and allowed himself to be dragged towards Jack's office.


	2. Turn Around

_**AN**__ - Thank you so much to WickedWitchoftheSE, Arlath's Daughter, Phoenixclara, , specialfrancine, toobeauty, kausingkayn and silentjellyfish for your reviews; your words mean a lot. Thank you too to everyone that has added an alert; I'm glad you're interested in this series. _

_This one is Pride and PC Andy. It's my first attempt at writing his POV so hope you like it. Not a funny one this time though…_

PC Andy stood at the end of the dark alley in the rain. That was the thing about being a copper in Cardiff; there was a lot of standing in the rain. Right now he was standing in front of a strip of crime scene tape with his back to the Torchwood team. He knew that by now they would be leaning over the dead body doing whatever it was that they did that no-one else was allowed to see. It was only a few minutes ago that they had stridden past him in that way they had, the big American telling him to keep the spectators away.

Yes, because he needed to be told what to do; how to do his own job.

Anyway, in this rain no-one was mad enough to bother coming to see what the police were up to. So he was resigned to standing here staring at the inky darkness, listening to whatever was happening behind him. He hunkered down into his jacket to fend of the wind that tried to blow the icy rain down his neck.

He longed to turn around and watch them work, but refused to let himself, no matter how much he wanted to. And he did love to watch them work. To watch Gwen moving with that look of concentration on her face. The quiet Welshman who always followed a step behind the other two, but then seemed to be everywhere at once. And the Captain, who, and he hated to admit it, oozed authority and control and charisma. He always stood there directing the others, directing everyone, smiling, somehow getting everyone to do what he asked.

Then there was him. Standing on the sidelines. Again.

He knew a bit about what Torchwood did, certainly knew what they were capable of. He knew that they could swan into any crime scene they liked and take over without explanation. He knew that they could make entire case files disappear, make witness statements disappear. God, they could even make suspects disappear.

He really wanted to turn around.

Andy blinked as a gust of wind blew rain into his face. Torchwood would be off and gone again soon. Sweeping off enigmatically in their big black car to wherever it was they went. And where would he be? Still standing here in the rain, that's where. And tomorrow would bring more standing. More rain too no doubt. While they ran around in their shiny car chasing their weird and interesting cases he'd be back with lost dogs and wallets.

There was a beeping sound from behind him and Gwen's voice went up a pitch. Andy couldn't make out the words, but heard the sudden interest in her tone.

God, he wanted to turn around and see what they were doing. Maybe he could help them? He was sure that he could help them, if only they would give him a chance.

He had asked to join them once. When he and Gwen were working together again on the disappearance of that lad Jonah. He had asked her if they had any vacancies, if she would put in a good word for him. She had said maybe, but of course he had never heard anything again. He thought he had stood a chance when the other two had died. He felt a little guilty about seeing the opportunity in such a tragedy, but still. They would need someone new now wouldn't they?

But no. They still hadn't asked. Hadn't he proved himself to them yet? To Gwen? Oh he knew what most people thought of him. Good old PC Andy. Bit simple, easy going, mostly harmless. Good only for crime scene guarding, keeping non-existent spectators at bay. But he was so much more, he just needed someone to see it. He thought Gwen would have seen it by now. Especially after all that business the night Cardiff was bombed.

But apparently not. Nope, here he was again, no better than the "hoards" of spectators he was guarding them from. He _really_ wanted to turn around and watch them work; walk over there, offer to help, offer to do anything they wanted.

He took a deep breath, sighing out into the rain. No, he wouldn't turn around, and he wouldn't ask again. No matter how much he wanted it, he would _not_ ask again. That would be like begging. PC Andy may not have had much, but he did have his pride.


	3. Watching

_**AN**__ - Big thank yous to , yyqh, WickedWitchoftheSE, specialfrancine, kausingkayn, and toobeauty for your reviews. Your words are always appreciated. Thank you too to everyone who has added an alert._

_This one is Rhys and lust. Possibly not the strongest of the series, but I hope you'll bear with me for the next ones…_

Rhys was happy. It was a Sunday and he was wandering around the shops with his soon-to-be-wife. They were looking at bed linen. Gwen had decided that they should start married life with new bed clothes and so they had come out together this Sunday to buy some. And this made Rhys very happy.

It's not that he gave two hoots about bed linen and he knew most men would rather cut off their right arms than spend a Sunday afternoon traipsing round the shops with their wives-to-be. But Rhys wasn't most men, and most men's partners weren't Gwen. Weren't part of a super secret organisation that meant they worked all the hours that god sent, never came home for dinner, or for bedtime, or when they did come home often stank of things he didn't want to ask about.

And so, Rhys was happy to be trailing around after Gwen, looking at bed linen he didn't care about, because it meant that she was actually with him.

And that's when he heard it. The shouting. And the screaming. He groaned to himself. Could they go no-where without screaming and shouting starting?

Gwen turned to look at him. He gave her a resigned shrug.

"I know." he said simply. She gave him a smile and started running away from him in the direction of the screaming. She paused and looked back over her shoulder.

"Are you coming or what? Might be fun."

Rhys gave her a big smile and headed after her.

He was a few steps behind Gwen and was watching her as she ran. Rhys started to notice the way people around them were responding. As Gwen ran she shouted and Rhys watched as people reacted. Automatically and without hesitation, people moved out of their way; no, her way.

As he ran through the shopping centre behind her, watching her, he suddenly started seeing her not as Gwen, the pretty girl from college, or Gwen newbie copper, or Gwen can you make us a cuppa love, but Gwen leather-clad super hero.

Now he came to think about it he wasn't sure just when she had started wearing this much leather all the time, but he couldn't deny she looked good in it. He watched as her tight jeans pulled even tighter over her arse as she ran. Watched the way her body responded as she moved. And he liked what he saw.

They reached the bottom of the stairs as a man ran out of a jewellery shop, a gun in one hand and a crying woman in the other.

Rhys skidded to a halt as he watched Gwen react instantly, not mattering that the threat wasn't alien, just that the threat was real. He looked at Gwen, her body rooted to the ground, her feet planted squarely on the floor. Her knees were bent slightly as her body remained tense, ready to move when needed. Her arms were outstretched, holding the gun level at the armed man.

People were screaming still, the girl in the thief's arms was crying, and the thief was shouting. Rhys' eyes flicked from the man with his gun, back to Gwen. The thief's panic and fear were obvious, and contrasted noticeably with Gwen's complete calmness and control.

Rhys suddenly felt disconnected from what was going on; as if he was watching a scene unfold on a screen, rather than watching his beautiful fiancée in a stand off against an armed thief. He studied her properly now. They had been together for a long time and he couldn't remember the last time he had just looked at her like this. She had her back to him now. Her leather jacket hugged her figure, pulling in tight at her waist, accentuating the curve of her hips, the swell of her arse. Those jeans really were very tight. How had he not noticed before?

His eyes continued to travel down her body, hungry now; devouring her shapely legs as they tapered down into the black leather boots. He felt a stirring low in the pit of his stomach.

He was suddenly aware of screaming again and he looked up to see the thief waving his gun in the air. There was a loud bang and the gunman was suddenly on the floor holding his arm. Gwen had shot the gun straight out of his hand.

Gwen was rushing towards the gunman now, shouting at him to stay down and barking out orders to the security guards who were only now starting to approach.

There was so much authority in her voice. So much control. The stirring in his stomach went lower, much lower. Rhys felt his mouth go dry and his breath get shallow.

He watched Gwen pick up the fallen gun and make it safe while the security guards subdued the thief. He saw her turn her attention to the girl that had been taken hostage, who started to calm immediately at her words. Watched as they all responded to her every command.

He swallowed and walked stiffly towards her.

"We're leaving." he growled into her ear, his voice thick with longing.

"No, I should probably hang around for the police and go back to the station with them."

"Not a chance." Rhys said, his voice still low, eyes hooded and dark with lust, "you're coming home with me. Now."


	4. HobNobs and Handholding

_**AN**__ – Thank you, thank you, thank you to kausingkayn, WickedWitchoftheSE, the darkness revealed, specialfrancine, and toobeauty for your reviews, especially as I had my doubts about the last chapter. Thanks too to everyone that has added an alert._

_This is Gwen and Gluttony. Warning: This is very, __**very**__ silly, and features one of my fav things; the Gwen/Ianto friendship._

Gwen lay on the table in the medical bay staring upwards. Her arm lay resting across her stomach, a gentle throb coming from under the bandages where the what-ever-it-was had bitten her.

Owen worked beside her, examining his diagnosis equipment with a steady, professional eye. If Gwen moved her fixed gaze from the high roof above her she would have met the concerned eyes of Ianto, Tosh and Jack looking down at them both from the railing. But she didn't. She just kept looking up.

Ever since the incident with the nostrovite Owen had insisted that anyone bitten by an alien had an immediate tox-screen, body scan and parasite scan.

As Gwen lay back, staring up, she wondered how the hell it had got to be her again? It wasn't like she went around fling-flanging her arms in the face of hungry aliens, but there was no mistaking the fact that is was her lying here, again, waiting to see what, if anything, was growing inside her this time.

Owen's machine beeped and the doctor pushed himself along the floor on his chair to peer at his monitor. Apparently satisfied he pressed a button that displayed the results on the wall.

While four pairs of eyes turned to look at the image, Gwen kept her gaze level in the middle distance above her.

"Basically," said Owen "You're going to be fine."

Gwen let out a rush of breath and, blinking, allowed her focus to come back to the room.

"Thanks Owen." She turned her head to look at him. "Wait, what do you mean _basically_?"

"There is a small amount of poison in your blood, but it's actually quite harmless. It has sent your metabolism through the roof, but you should be back to normal in 24 hours."

"What does it mean?" But Owen was already walking away from her, the job done in his mind.

"It means you can eat whatever you like for a day." Gwen looked up to see Tosh grinning down at her. Gwen sat up, swivelling so that her legs were dangling off the table.

"Is she right?" she asked Owen.

"Your hyper metabolism will burn off pretty much anything you eat immediately. If we were looking at more than a day you'd have a problem, as it is you'll be fine." He didn't even turn to look at her as he answered.

Gwen looked up at the three smiling faces above her. "I can really eat whatever I like for 24 hours and not put any weight on?"

"I guess so." said Jack with a laugh.

Gwen jumped off the table and ran towards the stairs.

"Ianto, where do you keep those biscuits? You know, the good ones. The chocolate covered HobNobs I always say 'no' to?"

"They're next to the coffee machine. Why? What are you…"

Gwen was already running full tilt towards the coffee machine when she heard the realisation cut into Ianto's voice and his footsteps start to follow her. Reaching the coffee machine she saw a brand new packet of the biscuits sitting there. She grabbed them and wrestled briefly with the packaging before tearing it open. She pulled out one of the crumbly, chocolaty biscuits and in two bites crammed it into her mouth as Ianto skidded to a halt in front of her.

Gwen let herself fall back against the wall her eyes rolling back in her head.

"Oh, god these are good." Crumbs fell indelicately out of her mouth as she spoke and she pulled another biscuit from the packet, quickly devouring it too. She moaned around the oaty chocolaty-ness in her mouth.

She was aware of Ianto standing in front of her looking concerned, but couldn't tell if he was worried about her or his biscuits. She racked her brain now. Twenty-four hours; could eat anything she wanted. What could that mean?

Suddenly it came to her. She ran through the Hub, grabbing her jacket as she moved.

"I'm going shopping, I'll be back soon."

Gwen heard Ianto's footsteps behind her again, but ignored his plaintive shout of "But you've still got my HobNobs."

Stopping at the door, she turned to look at Ianto; he was stood silently with his hand held out to her.

"You're right Ianto, yes, good thinking. I'll need someone to help me carry. Thank you." Beaming at him, Gwen grabbed Ianto's outstretched hand and pulled him through the door with her, ignoring his surprised look with a sly smile of her own.

Gwen pulled Ianto to her car, letting go of him to climb into the driver's seat. Ianto climbed in next to her.

"Where exactly are we going?"

Gwen stuffed another HobNob into her mouth. Crumbs escaped her lips as she spoke, putting the car into gear.

"There's a bakers near my flat. Walk past it everyday, never get to go inside. Today that bakers is mine."

Gwen grinned through her biscuit as Ianto finally smiled at her.

**********

Gwen, Ianto and an empty packet of HobNobs pulled up outside the bakers, Gwen dashing inside. Spreading her hands on the glass counter she stared at the goodies behind the cool barrier.

"Can I help you love?" said the nice lady behind the counter.

Gwen pointed at the chocolate éclairs. "Is it real cream in there?"

"Yes love."

"Okay. I want one of those." The woman picked one up and went to put it in a bag.

"No, I mean now. I want one now." With a flustered look the woman leaned over the counter and allowed Gwen to pluck the éclair straight from her tongs.

Gwen looked at the éclair almost reverently for a second before biting into it. She luxuriated in the soft pastry first, then the cream exploded into her mouth, its sweetness tickling her tongue. She moaned loudly and slumped against the counter. Then the chocolate hit her taste buds eliciting another moan from her and a slightly concerned look from Ianto.

She swallowed and turned the woman again. "Six of those in a box." She took another bite, her eyes rolling back in her head. "Make it twelve."

As the woman set to work filling boxes with chocolate éclairs Gwen turned her attention to the real reason she had chosen this shop. This baker was well known for their heavenly cupcakes.

The cupcake display was a cacophony of colours, icing swirls and sugar flowers. Gwen's eyes watered as much as her mouth to see such a sight and know what she could do next.

"How many different flavours have you got?"

"Well, there's strawberry shortcake, carrot cake, choc/orange dream…"

"No, not what are they; how many are there?"

"Um," the woman was flustered again. "Ten."

"Right, then box up one, no, two of each. Three of that one." Gwen pointed at a chocolaty looking cupcake with chocolate icing.

She felt Ianto move close beside her and he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

Gwen turned to see a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. She beamed at him again.

"You're a bloody genius, you are. You stay here while these are boxed up and I'll meet you back at the car."

Gwen went to leave, before turning quickly around again. She pointed back to the bakery counter of cakes and pastries, her face serious. "And give me one each of everything in there."

In less than two minutes Gwen had left Ianto and run round the corner to the Kripsy Kreme that her friend had so helpfully reminded her was there.

Within another minute she was once again peering into glass fronted counter, talking to the young man behind it. This time she was speaking around an original glazed ring doughnut that she was only supposed to have once she had bought something, but one look at her face had convinced the nice young man to give it to her early.

"You do boxes of twelve right? Okay, I'm going to need two of them with a mix of everything." She waved her hand over the glass to indicate how serious she was about the 'everything', before pausing and pointing at the strawberry filled original glazed. "Especially them. Lots of them."

With her order complete Gwen left the slightly startled young man and headed back to the car. Ianto was leaning against the passenger door, a stack of boxes balanced on the roof.

Gwen looked between the boxes in her hands, the boxes on the car and Ianto. Shifting the doughnuts in her arms she plucked her car keys out of her pocket and tossed them to Ianto.

"You don't mind driving do you?"

******

A short while later an icing sugar covered Gwen, Ianto and a large stack of white bakery boxes made their way through the Hub to the amused looks of the rest of the team.

"I'll be in the boardroom." she called. "For a while."

*******

Two hours later Gwen lay with her head on the boardroom table, her arms wrapped around her stomach. Part empty boxes were spread around the table.

Gwen heard the door slide open and footsteps approach her. Without moving she opened her eyes and saw a cup of coffee and a bottle of water be placed on the table in front of her.

"How are you doing?" Ianto asked.

Gwen closed her eyes again. "I am very full, and I feel quite sick." She allowed a happy smile to play across her face. "It's bloody brilliant."

She heard a soft chuckle from behind her and a gentle hand smoothed over her hair briefly. The sound of retreating footsteps and the door closing told her she was alone once again.

Gwen's smile got broader as she reached out one arm to curl protectively around the nearest box of cakes.

"And I've still got 20 hours left."

_**AN**__ – I am particularly proud of myself here for shoehorning the phrase "fling-flanging" into a story… ;o)_


	5. You

_**AN**__ – Thank you to cjh4ever, specialfrancine, WickedWitchoftheSE for your reviews. Your kind reviews are always appreciated._

_This is Jack and wrath. This one is not funny; it's dark and angsty. This is your warning! Set at the end of "Meat"_

Jack flicked off the CCTV image once Gwen and Rhys were out of shot. He tried to control his breathing. He had taken his anger out on Gwen, but it wasn't Gwen he was angry at. Wasn't her he should be taking his wrath out on.

No. Someone else needed to know. Needed to know what they had done.

Rising, Jack headed back out of his office, nudging Ianto out of the way to lean out of the door. He glared at Owen and Tosh.

"And the rest of you go home too."

He turned and saw Ianto looking at him, an unspoken question in his eyes.

"You stay." he muttered at the younger man.

He took the near empty glass from Ianto's unresisting hands and striding to his desk refilled it before handing it back.

He walked away from Ianto again.

"Sit down." he barked.

Ianto sat obediently and unquestioningly as Jack sank into his office chair opposite him. Jack took a sip of his whiskey and watched as Ianto mirrored him. He paused, rolling the amber liquid around his mouth, enjoying the sting of it on the soft flesh, allowing it to roll under his tongue where the sting was even sweeter.

He experimented. Looking at Ianto he took another sip. As he thought Ianto raised his own glass to those perfect lips and also took another drink.

"What Gwen was feeling out there today?" Jack started, "That's what I feel everyday now because of you."

Ianto looked up at him, face neutral as always, but shock in those blue eyes.

"Every time we step out there. Every time we engage with someone or some being I now have that extra worry of you."

Jack pre-empted Ianto's attempt to speak before he had made it.

"No. I am talking and you will listen."

Jack stared right at Ianto and took another sip of his whiskey, savouring the pause, knowing how uncomfortable the silent scrutiny would make the young man. He watched Ianto raise his own glass to his lips and take a deep drink in an effort to fill the gap.

"Do you know what it did to me today; watching you stand there with that gun pressed against you? And then what do you do when you're released? You start to fight the man with the gun. Most people would run for cover, but not you. Not Ianto, no; you have to take care of everyone else; make sure no-one else gets hurt, so you fight the man with the gun.

"And I couldn't help you. I couldn't get a clean shot. I just had to watch. Useless. And that moment, that moment he stood with that gun over you, I thought that was it. I thought you were gone; that I had lost you. And I thought my world was ending.

"I will not be made to feel like that by someone like you."

The anger was thick in Jack's voice now and his chair scraped along the floor as he stood quickly. He moved out from behind his desk, striding into the room. He turned and jabbed a finger towards Ianto.

"It's all your fault.

"I swore to myself that I would never fall for anyone again. Never let myself care that much for anyone again. Then you, you Ianto fucking Jones, stride into my life. All tight jeans, slight smiles and swagger.

"You made me want you and then, _then_, you betrayed me. But I thought no, this is good, I could never let you close to me after that. I'd be safe from you. But no. You carried on. Carried on being _you_, and you wormed your way in. Got under my skin, into my head, into my…

"You."

Jack snarled the word at Ianto. He didn't even flinch. Didn't move. The anger sparked again. What did he have to do? The stupid man trusted him even now. Even now when he was shouting and railing at him, Ianto just sat there and took it. Took it all from him, because he knew this was what Jack needed and he'd do anything for Jack wouldn't he?

What did he have to do to get a reaction from this man? Get an ounce of fear? He needed a reaction to his anger, needed to see the fear in the eyes of the person that made him more afraid than anyone had in longer than he remembered.

Jack looked at the whiskey glass in his hand. Then threw it. It hit the ground and shattered into a hundred pieces, pebbles of glass skittering across the floor.

Ianto flinched this time, but still didn't move.

Jack rushed at Ianto and crouched on the floor in front of him, between his legs. He grabbed the front of Ianto's open waistcoat, bunching the material in his fists. Ianto kept his face turned away but Jack leaned in close.

"It's your fault." His voice was quieter now, but he spoke through gritted teeth. "You have done this to me. You. You've made me care. Godammit. You've made me love again. You've made me love you."

Ianto finally looked up at him, tears in his eyes.

"Jack, I don't feel right."

Jack rocked back on his heels, releasing Ianto's waistcoat and moving his hands to the other man's knees.

"No. You wouldn't." he said quietly, looking up to meet Ianto's gaze. "Retcon never mixes well with whiskey."

_**AN**__ – I originally wrote this ending so that it brought the story back to canon, but if you want to take it a different, darker way, then feel free. As always, interested in all comments._


	6. Can’t Live On Air Alone

_**AN**__ – Real thanks to rosiee, kausingkayn, Andine, thedeejay, specialfrancine, cjh4ever, WickedWitchoftheSE, , and Algazoth for all your reviews and your kind comments. Thank you too to everyone that has alerted or favourited this series._

_This is Owen and greed. Again, not a funny, but I hope you like it._

It had been a long, difficult and trying day; the type that should lead to complete exhaustion. Yet Owen didn't feel tired; not tired like he should do. But he'd had enough of the day. Giving the section of leg lying on the autopsy table an appraising look he decided it wasn't going anywhere and would wait until the morning.

He pulled off the latex gloves with a snap and throwing them into the waste he headed out of the main Hub to get changed.

He showered automatically, unnecessarily, leaving the light off in the darkened locker room. He'd learnt quickly to do a lot of things without the need to look down at his own body, but the darkness helped. He didn't need to see his bottle of shower gel to know how good it smelt, how smoothly it spread over his skin. He didn't need to see the label to know the designer name that adorned it, or the designer price that he had paid for it. It was the best money could buy and he always had the best.

Stepping out of the shower he dried himself before stepping into clean jeans and a clean shirt. The jeans fit well, as they should at that price, and he let his fingers play over the soft material of his silk blend shirt. He knew the material would…should feel thick and luxurious under his touch. That's what he'd paid for after all. He had kept this shirt as one of his spares at the Hub for that moment in life where he would get to show it off. Ironic then that he was now wearing it for an empty room.

Owen made his way out of the darkened room and back up to the Hub. The lights up here were low too now that everyone else had left for the night. He picked up his designer leather jacket, a weeks wages for most people, and headed home.

He let himself into his flat. He threw his keys down on the table by the door and his jacket onto one of the two leather sofas that made the centre point of his large living room. He moved through the apartment that had always been too big for him alone, but he'd been able to afford it, so he'd taken it. And he'd always loved the looks on girl's faces when he first brought them through the door. That look as they took in the opulence of his surroundings.

They saw his furniture, the impossibly too big TV on the wall, the impressive looking art that adorned the other walls and they thought money. They thought success. They thought they'd struck gold; got lucky. And for one night, they had.

It had started when he'd become a doctor. In fact it had started before then. Growing up with next to nothing, leaving home at 16 with absolutely nothing, had made him determined to lead a life where he wanted for nothing. It was one of the reasons he became a doctor. You never saw a doctor with a small house and a hatchback did you?

It had taken years of hard work to get the scholarship; working two jobs while he studied, getting qualified. But it had been worth it. Oh, it had been worth it. Within just a couple of years he had barely wanted for anything; and having Katie had made everything perfect.

Then that had gone and instead he had even more money and no-one but himself to spend it on. And so, he had spent it. He had the best of everything. The car, the clothes, the gadgets, the flat, the food. He ate out every night if he wanted to; the food he bought in was the best he could get. If something broke he replaced it, bigger and better. As soon as something was outdated, he upgraded; always having the latest model, latest technology.

When challenged for his opulent ways he'd always grinned and said "You can't live on air alone." But now, for all its cost, all its value, it suddenly all seemed worthless. Empty. Shallow. Pointless. He had greedily taken it all when it was there; but now he would give it all away for the chance to take one more breath.


	7. How Could She Be?

_**AN**__ – Big, huge, genuine thank yous to L.A.H.H., Arlath's Daughter, specialfrancine, TheDoctorWood, kausingkayn, the darkness revealed, Marian. Locksley, WickedWitchoftheSE and cjh4ever for taking the time to review and for your lovely comments._

_This is Tosh and envy. I've not written from Tosh's POV before so I hope you find it not too far off the mark. I've left the ending a little open to interpretation…Interested in your opinions if you want to share…_

Tosh pulled her glasses off her nose and rubbed a hand over her eyes. She'd been working on this programme for hours now, just staring at the screen; ribbons of green numbers, letters and symbols on a black background quietly scrolled in front of her.

It was a quiet day today. No calls had come through and the rift predictor wasn't showing anything for the next 48 hours at least.

Tosh looked around her; searching out her colleagues. Owen was at his desk, his medical bay empty of patients or corpses. Leaning back in her chair Tosh could see that he was looking at the website of a new club he kept saying he wanted to check out. Oh. It was _that_ sort of club. He had a big grin on his face.

She could hear Gwen talking on the phone to Rhys while she lounged on the sofa. They were planning their honeymoon. Tosh didn't need to turn around to see her smile. It was apparent in every word she said.

Looking up she saw Jack and Ianto talking on the gantry. Their body language was casual, relaxed, and their heads comfortably close. They spoke in low voices so no-one could hear, but there was no mistaking the slow, easy smiles they shared.

Tosh looked back at her screen, code scrolling across; a language she was much more familiar with. While everyone else found something more fun to do when there was no work around, it was just Tosh who found more work to do.

She supposed she should be envious of the way the others fell so easily into their own distractions. But she never would be. How could she be?

She glanced at Gwen again. Gwen the police constable, the wannbe detective. She was smart enough and would work determinedly at any mystery, any problem; picking away doggedly at it until she had it solved.

But not Tosh. Tosh didn't need to pick away at something; scrutinise, examine from every angle. Tosh simply looked at the pieces of gathered evidence and information and the solution presented itself to her.

Tosh just had to look at the data, and it moved in front of her eyes like pieces of a jigsaw until they had all fallen into their correct places; fitting together neatly to give a complete picture. And she knew Gwen envied her that.

She turned her attention to back to Owen; planning another night out. The single man, living the bachelor life. But she had seen it once. He had been regaling them with stories of a busy weekend full of booze and women and excess, and had turned to her to slyly ask what she had done with her weekend.

She had smiled and said that she'd had a quiet weekend in. Long baths, longer movies, good books and cooking herself exquisite food. And that's when she'd seen it. That flash of envy in Owen's eyes that she could do that. That she was comfortable enough in her own skin, her own life, that she could spend a whole weekend luxuriating in her own company; while he had to seek constant inebriated distraction in the arms of anonymous lovers.

She glanced up at Ianto now and smiled. Clever Ianto, who would work tirelessly into the night with her on computer programmes, writing codes, building algorithms. His brain was good, brilliant even, but it was no match for hers. And she'd seen the looks from him too. The looks of envy, only half disguised under admiration, as he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing on the screen, while her fingers kept a steady rhythm on the keyboard; streams of numbers and letters flowing straight from her head to the computer, and answers from the screen to her mind.

She moved her gaze to Jack. As if sensing her, Jack tore his eyes from Ianto and looked straight down at her. The lazy grin he'd been giving the Welshman turned into a broad smile as he looked towards her.

She smiled back, pondering him; what he might be envious of.

She giggled slightly to herself, tuning back to her screen. Yeah right, as if…

_**AN**__ – Now although there are seven here, the people who did the initial challenge threw us an extra prompt, so that will appear here soon. _

_Also – and sorry, no promises on timescales - but thanks to WickedWitchoftheSE putting ideas into my head a Seven Heavenly Virtues series will now also be written…_


	8. What’s one more?

_**AN**__ – so on the last week of the challenge we were given a bonus of writing a fic for Suzie and using any of the seven sins as our prompt… I had a go at all seven of them… Some are more obvious than others. Spoilers for _They Keep Killing Suzie_ and other refs to season one_

_Thanks to WickedWitchoftheSE, thedeejay, L.A.H.H., Marian Locksley, cjh4ever,  
specialfrancine, TheDoctorWood, kausingkayn for your reviews and to everyone that has supported this series; it's much appreciated. Look out for the virtues!_

Suzie tilted her head back in the car seat, her conversation with Gwen at a momentary pause. She remembered to lean gently, she was supposed to have gaping head wound under the scarf after all, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment.

She started to imagine what it would feel like. After all these years, what it would feel like to confront her father, switch off his life support, watch the life drain out of him at her hand. She would feast on it, gorge herself on it, lap it up hungrily; like the starving would glutton on a sudden meal.

She deserved to. She deserved to be able to enjoy it. After all it was his fault. All of it; everything. What he had done, the life they had led. What that had done to her mind. It had broken her. She hated him for that. Had spent her whole life hating, letting the anger fester and grow. She'd stored her anger for him. Pressed it down in her gut, kept it hidden; kept it safe. But it had driven her, pushed her forward; made her the woman she had been.

In fact there was a time she was almost grateful. If she hadn't been broken Jack wouldn't have noticed her, wouldn't have seen her potential for Torchwood. And it was when she joined Torchwood that her life began; _really_ began.

She was given power; well, Torchwood _was_ power. They had their own rules, they were below no-one; they answered to no-one. She'd quickly gained Jack's trust, proved herself worthy and had became Jack's second in command. That brought even more power. But it hadn't been enough. She wanted more. So much more. And that was what the glove bought. She felt it straight away; felt the power it could give her and it called to her like a siren.

And then it had been that driving her. That need, that want, the desire for power. She lusted after it, driven blindly by the need for more. It was like an addiction that needed constant feeding. She was hooked; wanted more and more, could never get enough.

The glove knew her; understood her; helped her feed the addiction; shared its power with her. And now it had brought her back. Made her whole again. Well, she'd be whole soon enough anyway. She could feel herself getting stronger by the minute now. Could feel Gwen's life force flowing through her body. It seeped into every muscle and sinew, flowed around her body in her blood; cascaded around her brain.

Suzie glanced over at the woman next to her. Gwen was probably quite a nice person. But that didn't matter now. Gwen was just serving a purpose; one more tool for her to use. When she'd originally come up with the plan it hadn't mattered to her who had to be sacrificed for her life. But it seemed right now that it was Gwen.

Oh she knew that when she left Torchwood she would be replaced, but she hadn't anticipated quite how much Gwen would have moved in on her position, or how fast. The woman was trusted, a centre in the team, she ran interrogations with Jack. Seemed popular with the others. And trusted enough to use the glove.

The glove. _Her_ glove. The glove had responded to the Welshwoman too. Gwen was moving in and taking everything that had been hers, everything she had wanted. Hell, she was even fucking Owen already.

But revenge would be hers. And she didn't even have to do anything. They were doing it all for her. She was being taken to her Dad and after that the world was hers. All she had to do was sit back and let it happen. Hell they'd done most of the hard work for her while she'd been dead; that's a lazy as you can get.

She allowed herself a small smile. It had worked so perfectly. Every minute step, all those months of planning and preparation and it was all working perfectly. They had done everything that was expected of them, played perfectly into her hands. They thought they were so clever, but they were no match for her. Not even the Captain. She had outsmarted them all. And she was very proud of herself.

Pride may well be a sin; but what's one more on the list?

_**AN**__ – by the way…recently changed by name on Twitter for anyone that is interested…am now Jooles_34._


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